OneShot Heaven
by darlasmom
Summary: Series of random one-shots, some fluffy, some smutty, some funny or angsty. Something for everyone! Rated M for future one-shot entries. Latest entry: Something New. Angst, hurt/comfort, BB in an established relationship. Not a wedding fic. Rated K .
1. Changing

**Just wanted to do a future fic based on Con Man in the Meth Lab. I've already penned a story about that episode; this is just a conclusion, of sorts. Romance, fluff, BB. Rated K+.  
**

**CHANGING**

_The presence of type two and type four Salter-Harris fractures confirms an active lifestyle of the decedent, most likely from hunting for sustenance. According to Wheeless' Textbook of Orthopaedics, we can determine the rate of physeal healing, and also the extent of angular deformity. Note references and external links for…_Brennan rubbed the back of her neck, trying in vain to dislodge the ball of tension stuck there. Unsuccessful, she was forced to rise from her desk and stretch. Muscles strained, joints popped, and she groaned in a rare display of discomfort.

She'd been working on the text of her Georgetown lecture for several days, and was just putting the finishing touches on the final section. She hadn't wanted to do this speech; work had been particularly busy, and she wanted to catch up on some paperwork from the last case she and Booth had just finished. The Anthropology department head, however, had been relentless, and she'd finally acceded to his wishes. By this time next week, it would be over, and she could increase her workload at work. A week or so of overtime would see it right.

A yawn interrupted her self-imposed exercise, and she decided she would take advantage of the quiet evening and go to bed early. If she retired now, she could get up even earlier and perhaps finish her notes. She wandered through the apartment, switching off lights and straightening her piles of research. Deliberating, she decided to double-check the door, make sure it was locked. She couldn't remember if she had, and Booth was constantly harassing her to be more aware of her surroundings. She was just turning away from it – she _had_ locked it – when a loud pounding from outside made her jump a foot in the air. Not even bothering to stifle her sigh, she moved to peer through the peephole. She already knew who it was. Nobody else pounded quite like Seeley Booth. But what could he possibly want? _Stupid question, Temperance – what does he ever want?_

One large, distorted brown eye blinked back at her. "Bones! C'mon, open up! It's important!" As if he somehow doubted that she would open the door, he pounded on it again.

Fighting back a smile, she unfastened the locks and swung the door open. "What's the matter –" She stopped suddenly, staring owlishly at him. "You're wearing a tuxedo."

Booth sailed past her, depositing his black trench on the back of the chair. Shiny black shoes and army ranger cufflinks winked at her while the extra-fine wool suit absorbed the low light in the room. "Yep, I'm goin' in high style tonight, Bones."

"Why are you here? Why are you wearing a tuxedo?" She closed the door and switched on more lights as he shucked his suit jacket and draped it over his coat.

"Got a big shindig to go to tonight, Bones." Restless, kicked high on adrenaline, he paced energetically around the room. "Remember that Army General we helped last month?"

"General Brigson, yes, I remember him. How is he?"

"He's just fine; said he's fully recovered, almost as if it had never happened. That's why I'm here tonight."

"Because of the General?"

"Yep. The General is having a spur-of-the-moment party at the National Gallery of Art, in the Rotunda, and he has invited me as a gesture of thanks."

"Booth, you hate these types of things. You hate them as much as I do. Why are you going?" Intrigued, she studied him carefully. He was clearly excited, more so than she'd seen him in quite some time.

"Well, yeah, normally I hate them. But some of my old Army buddies are gonna be there; they were invited before anyone realized the connection. They're lifers."

"Lifers?"

"Yeah, career men. Guys that made a career out of the Army. I thought it would be a great opportunity to catch up with them – we haven't been together in years."

He became so animated when he talked about his friends, she couldn't help but smile. "No wonder you don't mind going. It's a military thing." She shook her head at him, rolling her eyes when he blasted a grin at her.

Looking at her expectantly, he clapped his hands together. "Okay, so, go get dressed."

She stared at him blankly. "What?"

"Go put your best duds on, Bones. You're coming with me."

Shaking her head, she stared at him as if he'd grown another one. "No, I'm not."

"Yeah, Bones, c'mon, go put something on. I need you there."

"No, you **don't**. Why on earth would you possibly want me to go?" Mystified, she watched him move toward her, a frown on his face. She gave a brief, desperate thought to going to bed in his face, but decided he'd merely follow her into the bedroom and keep pestering her.

"Well…you're my _partner_, Bones. I want you to meet the guys. And you helped me with the case; you should come, too." Pouring on the charm as thick as possible, he stepped close, nudging her hip with his. "Come with me, we'll enjoy ourselves. We can poke fun at all the people we don't know, give 'em fake jobs and names. It'll be a blast. There's food, booze, a band…c'monnnn..."

Well…I don't know…maybe it would be fun." She found it amazing that people thought **she** was stubborn. The man gave new meaning to the term. Completely redefined it. Weakening, but still fighting the urge to give in to his request, she frowned as a thought occurred to her. "Booth, I'm sorry - I completely forgot. I took all my formal dresses to the cleaners two days ago."

"Oh, come on. _All_ of them?"

The sight of his face dropping was almost comical; it was such a marked departure from his earlier expression. Still, she felt bad – she'd been putting off getting them cleaned, and had finally gathered them all up and dropped them at the cleaners. She didn't have anything that would be suitable. When she told him as much, he drooped even further, then surprised her by suddenly brightening.

"You must have something in there that'll work for a dinner party, Bones. Why don't you go dig around?"

"Booth, no. There's nothing in my closet that would be even remotely appropriate for a function at the Gallery of Art."

"I don't believe that, Bones. C'mon, let's check." Before she could stop him or even utter a word in protest, he strode down the hall into her bedroom and yanked open the closet door.

"Booth! Get out of my closet! I _told_ you there's nothing in there!" She tugged sharply at him several times before realizing that he was hell-bent on his mission, and she would have to physically assault him in order to stop him. Miffed, she pushed his shoulder and sank down onto the bed, grumbling.

Several times, he pulled outfits out of the closet, only to put them back when she instantly deemed them unworthy selections. She'd finally stopped participating, and was busy ignoring him, when his crow of success caught her attention.

"I got it! There was one dress, way in the back." With a flourish, he waved the gown in front of her face. "You can wear this – it's perfect." He stopped short at the distressed look on her face. "What's wrong, Bones?"

"I can't wear that."

"Why not?"

"It's not clean."

"It's still in the cleaner's plastic from last time. What are you talking about?"

She shook her head, trying to hide the dismay, the embarrassment brought on by the long fall of black fabric. "I'm sorry, Booth, we'll have to find something else. Put that one back."

Head tilted inquiringly, he moved closer. "Why don't you want to wear this dress, Bones? Why was it buried in the very back of your closet?" At her lack of response, he plunked down next to her on the bed and leaned close. "Talk to me. What's up?"

She didn't want to tell him; was desperate not to spoil his night. To remind him of that time would undoubtedly cast a pall on his evening, and that was something she was extremely unwilling to do. "I don't even think it fits anymore." She glanced at him hopefully. "Maybe there's something else in there?"

"Temperance. Stop. Whatever's going on, it has nothing to do with the fit, or if it's clean, or anything else." Intense brown eyes peered into hers, leaving her nowhere to hide. "Now, are you gonna tell me what's wrong, or do I have to drag it out of you?"

Pinned by his stare, knowing that he was on the scent now and would only badger her until she gave in, she heaved a troubled sigh, sagging slightly next to him. "That dress has some...uncomfortable memories attached to it, that's all. I'd just rather not wear it."

"_What uncomfortable memories? _Bones, stop beating around the bush and spill already. You're worrying me."

Fighting the stinging in her eyes, she looked away, still feeling the humiliation of that day. She swallowed hard and finally spoke. "It's the dress I wore when I went to the White House with Jared." Unable to sit still, feeling guilty for reminding him of what had happened between them, she rose, moving to stand by the window. "I haven't worn it since that night."

Concerned, he monitored her progress across the room. "That's not like you, Bones. It's almost…"

"Silly? Yes, it's most definitely not a logical reaction, but it remains, regardless."

Trailing her, he came to stand behind her as she looked out at the city. "If you didn't want to wear it, why'd you keep it?"

"To remind me." She hugged herself tightly, wishing beyond everything that he would stop asking her these questions. "Go ahead to the party, Booth; I'm sure all of your friends are there already, undoubtedly waiting to share old war stories. Go on – have a good time." She hoped she hadn't ruined his night completely.

"Temperance. I might have a good time without you. But I **know** I'll have a great time **with** you." When she wouldn't face him, he sidled around until he was looking down at the top of her head. "Forget about what happened back then, okay? The dress is beautiful. You'll look beautiful in it." Sensing that she was wavering, he grabbed her shoulders, squeezing them gently until she looked at him. The minute he saw her eyes, he closed the gap, laying his lips gently, tenderly on hers, spinning out the moment. The kiss shimmered in the silence, vibrating the air around them until at last, he broke the contact, pressing his forehead momentarily against hers. He smiled as she leaned into him, her eyes surprised, but warm. "That's over and done with. Let's give that dress a new memory, Bones. C'mon. What do you say?"

Looking up at him, her sadness finally lifting, she smiled winningly and took the dress from him. "I say turn around." When he complied, she hung the hanger off his shirt collar, garnering a spate of good-natured complaints from him. "Oh, stop whining," she commanded as she quickly shed her clothes and shimmied into the gown. "You want me to go, don't you?" Flinging the now-empty hanger onto the bed, she hurried over to her jewelry box. "I just need some jewelry and makeup, and a quick updo, and I'll be..." Catching sight of his dumbstruck expression, she stuttered to a halt, one high-heeled shoe in hand. "What's wrong?"

"Wow, Bones, just...wow." He came to stand in front of her, dropping his hands to her hips. "That is one hell of a dress. Holy cow..."

Her entire body tingled as he eyed her up and down, her cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. "Really?"

"Uh-huh. I knew there was a reason I came over here to get you," he muttered as he dropped his lips to hers again. "Boy, am I glad I got you."

**As always, if you liked it, and want to review, I'd love to hear from you!**


	2. Inner Scream

**One-shot dealing with Brennan's thoughts at the end of Wannabe In The Weeds. I'll apologize in advance - I'm having some major angst in my life, and this is how I deal. Angst. Rated M for language.  
**

**INNER SCREAM**

I can't believe I'm doing this! Me, Dr. Temperance Brennan. I should feel silly, dancing and singing in front of my co-workers and friends, but I don't. I feel happy, happier than I've felt in so long, almost as if this is who I really am, and I've just found myself again. They're all with me, all enjoying the show, and Booth…he's so silly, look at him. Sillier than me, if that's possible. Look at him! Hah! He's what Russ would call a big goofball. I know he's behaving that way on purpose, so I'll feel more comfortable up here. It's because of him; I never would have done this without him. There are so many things I never would have done, if not for him. He's more than my partner, he's my best friend. He's more than that, really. But I can't think about that now, or I'll forget the words to the song. I have to remember the words! Somehow, if I forgot, I know he'd help me remember. I know he doesn't know the words, but he'd figure it out somehow. He usually does. Concentrate, Temperance, big finish! Big finish!

Wait, something's wrong, Booth…is that Pam Nunan? What – oh my god, oh my god, the gun! Booth…Booth…what's he doing? What's going on? Booth! Oh god! Talk to me Booth, please talk to me, get up, say something, please! She shot you! She…bitch fucking bitch you shot my partner where's his gun grab the gun quick she's shooting again hurry!

I HOPE YOU DIE.

Booth, c'mon, talk to me, this isn't fatal, it's in the wrong spot, why won't you talk to me? Why don't I know what to _do_? Pressure, Bones, put pressure on it, that's what he'd tell me. It's okay, Booth, you're okay, I know this hurts but I have to try to stop the bleeding, the ambulance is on the way, I know they called for it, just keep your eyes open…don't look like that, please, please, don't look like that, you're alright! Say something, say anything, anything, please, oh please, oh god I can't stop the bleeding, why doesn't anyone know how to stop the bleeding? I'm a doctor but not the right kind, not what you need I'm so sorry Booth that I'm the wrong kind. No, don't close your eyes, you're not allowed to close your eyes, it doesn't happen this way! No! Where's your god, how do I pray to him, I want to pray to him, I'll do anything, please, please God, please help me, I don't know what to do! Help Booth, he believes in you he loves you, you have to help him…WHERE IS THE FUCKING AMBULANCE! Police, the police are here but they can't help but it's okay, Booth, the medics will be here any second, they'll fix you, they will, no OPEN YOUR EYES, DON'T YOU CLOSE YOUR EYES YOU'RE GONNA BE OKAY PLEASE DON'T CLOSE YOUR EYES…

Oh thank God, Booth, the medics are here, they're gonna help you now, just relax, everything's alright now, I'm gonna ride with you to the hospital, I won't leave you, I promise. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, I'm with you. ..

Booth, Booth, can you hear me? Booth, listen to me. The medics won't let me ride with you, I know I promised I would but I'm sorry they won't let me, I'm sorry. We're all going to follow you to the hospital, we'll be right there when you wake up, everything's gonna be alright now, just hang on, the medics will help you, and soon you'll be at the hospital. When you wake up, I'll make sure you have pudding for every meal, just hang on, Booth, please, keep fighting. God, why won't he open his eyes? Why are we still here? GO! GO! GET TO THE HOSPITAL, HURRY! Oh please, please…

Why won't they tell us what's going on? Why won't they let me see him? I'm a doctor, I understand about sterile protocol, I could look at him through the window and he'd know I was there, I know he'd know, he always knew – no , he knows, not past tense, don't do that! He's fine, he's fine, oh god why didn't I do more, why didn't I know more? It's not enough, it's not enough, there has to be more I can do, why isn't there more I can do? I should have made them let me ride in the ambulance, I promised him I would, I _promised him. _People keep trying to talk to me, Angela and Sweets keep trying to talk to me but I wish they'd shut up, I have to concentrate, I can't talk now, I have to think. THINK, TEMPERANCE…okay, okay, I can do this, think, you have to think for Booth, he needs you, he's always there for you now you have to be there for him. So think…

Hemothorax. Hemopneumothorax. Pneumothorax. Diaphragmatic rupture. Subcutaneous emphysema. Pneumomediastinum. Thoracic wall laceration. Sternal fracture. Oh god, what else, what else? The surgeons are good, I know they're good, I've spoken with them before, he's okay, everything is okay. They can fix all of this, and it wasn't that bad of a wound, it's bad, but not too bad – they can fix it, I know they're good enough. God, if I could just _see_ him! I'd feel better, I'll tell the nurse I have to see him, I'll make them let me see him – I promised, I can't break my promise…

He should be out of surgery soon, and he'll be unconscious for quite some time, but he'll be okay. They must be almost done. Nearly done, and then I'll see him, any minute now they'll be out and – the doctor. The doctor, he's done, they're done. Where's Booth? I have to see him, where is he? How did he do? Whatever he needs, I'll make sure he gets it, _whatever_ he needs I'll take care of it, I'll take care of him…what?

…what?

No.

No.

I don't understand…

No. No.

But it wasn't that bad, the injury wasn't that bad, why is he saying this? I want to see him, _I want to see him, someone has to take me to him, NOW! _

I don't believe him. I don't…no. No, I don't believe him, he's **wrong**, why won't he take me to see him? I promised I'd stay with him, he has to take me to him, I don't care about the rules, the fucking **rules**, he can go to hell, I WANT TO SEE MY PARTNER. No, they keep touching me. I don't want to be touched. I don't want to be touched. I want my partner. I want my partner. If they won't take me to see him I'll find him myself, they won't keep me away from him, where is he? Where is he?

I don't understand…

Booth.

Booth.

I…I…where's Booth?

I can't stay here, I have to leave, I have to leave I told him I'd stay with him and I didn't, I didn't, he needed me and I wasn't there, he, oh god, he needed me and I didn't help him, I couldn't help him, why couldn't I help him? Questions, they keep asking me things, what are they saying? I don't understand, why are they talking to me? I can't help them, I didn't help him I can't help them…oh god oh god, stop it, calm down, calm down, I have to pretend, be calm or I won't get away.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean to break my promise, I didn't…

Someone's crying. Who's crying? Not me. I don't cry. No one sees me cry...no. No, that's not true. Booth sees me cry. Booth knows. Now no one. Who will see me cry now? I can't, I can't, I have to go. Stay calm, they're not paying attention now, they're distracted, be calm, you're just going to get water, no, tell them you're fine, tell them you'll be right back, smile sadly, fool everyone…atta girl, Bones…

Atta girl, Bones. Oh god. Oh god.

Where's the car? Find the car; have to find the car, which car? Wait. Bloody handprints. My bloody handprints. Angela's car. Where are the keys? I drove, I wouldn't let her drive, I must have them…

Drive carefully. Don't get in an accident. Wouldn't want to die, no, that wouldn't be good…no, no it wouldn't…

Where am I? Why don't I care? It doesn't matter, nothing matters now, I didn't help him I didn't stay with him so nothing matters now. Where's Booth? He always drives…where am I?

Find your spare key, he gave it to you, gave it to you because you're partners and he trusts…trusted…were partners…

He must be here. It's a mistake, he has to be here.

Where is he?

Booth?

Where is he?

It's not a mistake.

It's not a mistake.

Booth…

_No._

Why am I on the floor? My stomach hurts…I think I might be sick. I should clean up, no, I won't clean it up, I won't take care of it like I didn't take care of my partner when he needed me…

I can cry here. Booth would understand, he'd understand, no one else would but he would, it's okay to cry here.

I'm so sorry…I'm so sorry, Booth…I was always afraid you'd break your promise to me but I broke my promise to you…I didn't mean to …

I didn't want to love anyone again but I did, I did love again, but never again, _never again, I never will again._

Where is he? Where's Booth?

_Booth…_

**As always, if you want to reach out to me, feel free to hit that button. Thank you so much for reading this.**


	3. Wonderingand Knowing

**Okay, this chapter is rated M for a reason...if spicy fics bother you, then you might not want to read it. But, if they're right down your alley, then enjoy! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I'm sure this storyline has been done before; this is just my take on it. Romance, smut, slight angst, BB. Rated M for language/smut.  
**

**WONDERING...AND KNOWING**

"Bones, just leave it; it doesn't matter." Wrestling with his front door, a steady scowl on his face, Booth finally got the temperamental deadbolt to give way, testily motioning his partner inside. "Biscotte's in custody and we have him dead to rights on the evidence. So, can we just stop arguing about this?"

"No, Booth, we can't. I don't know why you wouldn't let me help you take down the perp – I'm perfectly capable of performing as your partner." Heels clicking impatiently, Brennan crossed the room, draping her wool coat over the couch. "I don't know why you refused to allow me to assist you. There is no logical reason for this to have happened."

"You know, Bones, I've changed my mind. No more cop slang for you. Don't say 'perp' anymore – it just doesn't sound right when you say it." Disgusted, he struggled out of his jacket and tossed it down the hall, where it landed with a wet _splop_.

"You're trying to change the subject, Booth. You completely ruined your suit – look at you!" Indeed, he was covered in mud and soaking wet, as evidenced by the dark patches all over the material. There were several tears in the jacket he'd just discarded, and more buttons were off than on. "This wouldn't have happened if I'd stepped in."

"What, Bones, if you'd stepped in what? All the mud by the car? Or the briar bushes right next to the mud? Look at you!" His scratched, muddy hand swung toward her, drawing attention to her delicate bronzed-toned sheath, and the higher-than-usual heels she was wearing that day. "You couldn't help me – not in that excuse for a dress! What were you gonna do, _fashion_ him into submission?"

"I had a meeting today! Besides, you told me that we were going to speak to the _victim_! Why would I think that I would have to change into appropriate clothes for a physical altercation? You could've gotten seriously hurt today, all because of your outdated sense of chivalry!"

"Who says I wasn't hurt? Jesus…" He kicked off his grimy shoes with more force than needed, causing them to land drunkenly in a heap. "Everything freakin' hurts, damnit."

Her eyes widened, and her frown instantly disappeared. "Are you seriously injured? I can take you to the hospital, or to a doctor, I know you hate the hospital –"

"It's okay, Bones, really, I'm fine. Don't worry." He hadn't meant to make her worry, and his tone said as much. "I'm just a little banged-up; no worse than I've gotten during a pickup game."

"I don't know what that is." She watched him carefully, still undecided as to whether or not he should be seen by a doctor.

"It's a basketball thing. Really, I'll be alright, I just need a shower and a new set of clothes, and we can go question the _victim_." His snort of derision wasn't lost on her, and, having been reassured of his health, she was quick to notice and respond.

"Doesn't the FBI check victim's stories as a matter of course? Perhaps if that had been done, we would have known that his report of being assaulted was false, and you wouldn't be standing there in pants that are torn up the middle of the –"

"Enough, Bones, okay? Just – enough. Christ." Waves of irritation crashing off of him, he glared at her, daring her to continue. "I'm gonna hit the shower. You…there's some leftover barbecue in the fridge from when Parker was here the other day, have some if you want, and there's some of that bottled water that you like. I'll be out as soon as possible." Without waiting for a reply, or, as was usual in her case, an argument, he turned and stalked away, muttering dyspeptically.

Surprised by his grumpiness, she stood immobilized until she heard the en suite bathroom door slam shut. Why was he so out-of-sorts? She'd explained why she'd been wearing this outfit, and it was a perfectly acceptable reason. Yet he'd still snapped and snarled, as if she'd done it on purpose. She'd been perfectly willing to jump in and help, but his terse, barked order, warning her away, had been easily understood and impossible to disobey. Although they were partners, she still deferred to his superior experience in the field, and trusted his judgment. _I don't care; I still think he was wrong about this._ Perhaps he was embarrassed. Men could be so silly, sometimes, when their masculinity was challenged. He'd had trouble with this arrest, the suspect proving to be quite strong and resourceful. Perhaps he was concerned that she thought less of him now. She huffed, an irritated look on her face. _Psychology – what a waste of time._

Not hungry, and unable to settle, she meandered through the apartment, the distant sound of the shower a nondescript backdrop for her wanderings. Eventually, her gaze dropped to the shoes he'd left so abruptly in the middle of the room. Her eyes carefully catalogued the careless disorder before her. As he'd been rushing when he picked her up, apparently he hadn't had a chance to straighten before leaving for work today. Her sense of neatness demanded assuaging, and she gingerly grasped the dress shoes by the heel, heading for the bedroom.

Once in the doorway, she scanned the living area, finally deciding that the armoire was most likely where he kept his shoes. Stopping in front of the wooden panels, she quietly opened the doors, still aware that Booth was only a door away. She'd been right – all his shoes were there, lined up with military preciseness. She recognized several pairs, having seen them on her partner. She was observant; there wasn't much she didn't notice when looking at him. But seeing things from afar was quite different from seeing them up close. She shouldn't be in here, shouldn't be invading his living area this way. She told herself to step away, and was doing so when her attention was caught by a flash of blue in the black shoes just slightly to the left of center.

Even as she told herself that what she was doing was an egregious violation of his privacy, she found herself dropping to her knees and drawing one of the pristine shoes out, studying it. Then she realized what the hint of color represented, and with an ache so severe it bordered on the physical, she clutched the shoe to her, rocking slightly. His feet. The orthopedic supports were top-of-the-line, and were present in several pairs of his work shoes. Only the shoes of superior construction were without the custom supports.

Carefully, she replaced the shoes, her hands trembling with a mixture of hatred and sorrow. Sorrow for him, that he should be bound every day, physically reminded of what had happened to him, that he would face physical limitations of any kind. Hatred for the scum, the _fucking bastards_ that had done this to him. The desire for violence flared up in her, stunning her with its ripe potency. She knew it would only take an appearance by any one of his captors from that time to prove how quickly she would desert her scientific impartiality. Fisting her hands, biting her lip, she arduously fought off her rage, telling herself it was a useless emotion at this point. She began to rise, to cease her distasteful invasion into his private space, when another flash of color caught her eye, in a pair of shoes she'd never seen him wear. This was different. It was a photograph.

Ignoring the scientist in her that was insisting she leave the room, she kneeled again and reached for the picture. And looked at a centerfold. Blonde, slim, with gorgeous brown eyes, and boyish hips, she was reclining carelessly, slender fingers stroking herself. Her breath clogged in her throat; anthropologically, she understood the motivation behind the acquisition of such a trophy. But subjectively, that part of her that was female, was…pissed. And, suddenly, jealous. Her breath hissed out sharply, and she studied the photo critically, her feminine eye locating and detailing every last flaw, every imperfection.

"I don't use that one anymore."

She froze, then made herself relax. Cursing wouldn't ease her embarrassment, nor would blushing. So, she refused to do either. Rising slowly to her feet, she turned to face him. "Why not?"

"I find that it doesn't…fulfill my needs. It seems that blondes don't do it for me anymore." Fresh out of the shower, clad only in a damp, clingy towel and rivulets of water from his shower, he stood aggressively behind her, as confident as if he'd been wearing full body armor. The tight terrycloth knot at his waist only accentuated the broadness of his shoulders. He looked somehow younger than normal…but infinitely more dangerous. New bruises and scrapes attested to the violence of his earlier struggle, and only added to his primeval appeal. Those dark eyes stared; unblinking, revealing nothing. "Would you like me to show you the photo I use now?"

She knew better; really, she did, and yet, as if by command, she found herself answering him, her voice somehow softer, lower, rougher than she'd ever heard it. "Yes…"

Without a word, he reached in the bedside stand and pulled a well-worn, folded picture from the drawer.

Knowing this was a mistake, her every sense screaming that she run, she reached out, waiting, her hand wavering slightly.

The photo was one she'd seen before, a picture taken by a reporter who'd been invited to do a story on the Jeffersonian lab staff, with her the center of it all. With her photographic memory, she recalled the moment precisely. She'd been bent nearly double, on her knees, attempting to remove a cadaver from the box in which it had been interred, when she'd heard Booth's angry tones, and the photographer's nervous squawking. She'd spun around in time to see Booth mercilessly dogging the unfortunate reporter, even as he continued to shoot pictures, and before she could give voice to her questions, the unlucky man had popped the disc out of his camera, handed it to Booth, and nearly run out of the lab. Booth wouldn't answer her impatient questions, save to say that some pictures just shouldn't be taken, and, busy, she'd quickly forgotten the incident. This picture was clearly from that disc. She was bent over, lab coat and skirt riding high, and was showing a shocking amount of bare thigh. But her face was turned toward the camera, and she must have been looking at Booth, because on her face was a disconcerting mix of frustration and amusement.

It was her.

She'd somehow known it would be her.

Ruthlessly stomping on the heady flare of satisfaction inside her, she tried to figure out what to do next.

Dragging at her dignity, at her independence, she attempted to find her anger. "I don't appreciate being objectified, Booth. It's disrespectful, and it's a situation that can only result in discord in he workplace." Careful not to look away from him, she began to use her peripheral vision, surreptitiously seeking a way out of the room.

"Well, you know what happens when you snoop, Bones? You find out things." A flash of something, something _hot_, showed in his eyes for a moment; then once again they were flat, blank.

"I apologize for going through your possessions – it was wrong of me. But, Booth, I have to ask you to please discard this photograph."

Silently, almost daring her, he shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Booth, stop it. I want you to throw out this picture, I find it offensive."

"Do you?" Carefully he assessed her, his eyes lingering pleasurably in several particularly curvy areas as his head angled thoughtfully. "I don't believe you." Swiftly, his eyes shot back to hers, stopping her mid-breath. "And I'm not throwing it out."

Her anger flared, and she glared at him, ignoring common sense. "Fine – **I'll** throw it out." As she stepped crisply to the side to pass him, her heel tangled in his discarded clothes and she stumbled. He automatically steadied her – and as their eyes met again, his hands slid just as automatically from her shoulders to her back, tugging her even closer. Furious at being reduced to acting like some helpless character from a romance novel, she planted her hands firmly on his chest, halting her forward progress – and immediately realized her mistake. Her fingers curled against his slick, wet muscles, her fingertips stroking him, her short nails leaving faint flushed tracks on his smooth skin. Betrayed by her own hands, she could only gasp as he smiled knowingly and pulled her flush against him. As his damp breached the fabric of her dress and bloomed along her body, the heat between them rose impossibly high.

Her lips seemed reluctant to work, but she finally managed to gain control of them. "Booth. You're ruining my dress. You were concerned about it before..."

"I was concerned." Again the dark grin flashed. "I still am – very concerned. It concerns me that you're wearing entirely too much. And, of course, I wouldn't want to ruin it. Maybe we should take it off." His deliberate use of pronoun had an immediate effect on her, he could see. Patches of color appeared high on her cheeks, and her hands trembled. What he hadn't expected was the immediate effect her reaction had on him. Or the strength of it. He smiled once more, his expressive face sending her a message that had her senses screaming an alert. "Fine. You want me to throw it out? _Then give me a reason to get rid of it_."

He was looking at her as if he hated her. But she knew what he felt was a long way away from hate. Every inch of him pressed against every inch of her told the story. Told the truth. And that towel…she gulped, not caring if he noticed. That wasn't a fold in the towel. Her breath hitched, her heartbeat skittering wildly. It was all him. She wanted him; all of him, more than she'd ever thought possible. How could she turn away now?

Finally, after what seemed days, he drew a breath, whispering huskily to her. "So what's it gonna be, Bones? You gonna say no? Are you gonna hurt my feelings?" His body rippled, and she quivered in reaction, to his great satisfaction. "Talk to me."

Before she could think twice, before logic could step in and ruin everything, she reached out, her nimble fingers darting into the gap in the towel. Through the roaring in her head, she heard his desperate groan as her fingers found him, hard and ready. Meeting him boldly, she leaned her head forward, until her lips were brushing his ear. Giving him one tight, lazy stroke, she luxuriated in the moment, soaking in his quick shudder before whispering softly to him. "You're the last person in the world I would ever want to hurt."

In that instant, the boundary between them vanished, and he dragged her toward the bed, tumbling her onto it in a furious tangle of limbs. "I want you naked," he gritted, his hands frantically searching for a zipper, a button, _anything_. "I want you naked _now_." Her hands rushed to his, and together they tore the dress up and over her head, both ignoring the pop of splitting seams. With a quick flexing of his arm, the ruined fabric sailed overhead, landing carelessly on the floor.

She laughed, the action causing her body to tremble even more. His eyes glittered feverishly at the sight of her kneeling in front of him, laughing, her lingerie beckoning lacily. He crouched like a feral animal and sprang forward, knocking her backward and pinning her to the bed. All the soft, yielding parts of her body lay before him, new territory for his mouth, his hands to conquer. Snarling, he ran his hands over her, pleased with her instant response, her wild groan.

_Oh, god._ The feel of him on her was stirring her to life, causing every part of her body to throb incessantly. His skin rubbed against hers, and she almost cried out at the intense friction. He felt so good, _so good_, she knew she'd never be able to survive without this, never again without this. "Touch, oh please, touch me, Booth, I want you to touch me –" Her breathless demand careened into a wail as his fingers found her, slid under her lacy panties and took control of her. "Ah, yes, don't stop, yes, please…"

He stared fiercely down at her, her head thrown back, cheeks flushed, and something in him simply went berserk. "Now you know, now you get it, don't you, Temperance? Now you _finally_ understand." His hands moved quickly, almost a blur, and the last of her clothing was gone, and it was just him against her. He could feel her neck muscles working under his lips, molten, hot-wax sounds dripping from her throat. "You. Every night, it's been you. You're the last thing I think of every night. _Every fucking night, Temperance._" His mouth moved swiftly down her, teeth and lips surrounding her sensitized nipple, and he growled against her as she moaned and gasped, arching upward. "You thought you were the only one who could compartmentalize, but you were wrong. Every day I worked with you, and every night I imagined having you in every way possible. You never knew, you had no idea." He ruthlessly worked her, his hand moving quickly, driving another panting cry from her. "But I think you have an idea _now_, don't you?"

"Oh fuck yes, don't stop, don't, don't…" He knew what she wanted, how did he know what she wanted? Thoughts and sensations battered her until she couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but _feel_. Every part of her body was vibrating, shuddering, trembling at different frequencies. Driven senseless, she locked her hands around him, pulling at him. "I want you in me. I want you in me."

Ignoring her grasping hands, levering off of her, he sat back on his heels. Kneeling between her legs, he studied her heatedly as she sprawled on her back before him. "Well, never let it be said that I didn't give you what you wanted." Linking his hands under the small of her back, he jerked her hips several inches into the air, aligning her perfectly, intimately with him.

She cried out in surprise, her hands slapping down against the bed as she fought for purchase, fought to hold onto something, anything. Finding nothing, she struggled momentarily, reaching for him, but then stiffened in shock as he nudged her, rubbing against her center, agonizingly slowly. "Oh god, Booth, _stop -_"

"What? You did not just tell me to stop_._" Chest heaving, breath hissing out between clenched teeth, he glared at her. "What the fuck…" He groaned brokenly as she flung her arm up, wrapped her graceful fingers around him and began to stroke. She looked up at him, her cheeks and eyes flaming.

"You didn't let me finish. _Stop __**teasing me**__, Booth, I want you in me__** now**_."

He yanked her to him and she wrapped her legs around his waist, their twin groans striking an odd, erotic harmony when he speared into her. "Ah, _fuck_, Bones, you feel _so fucking good_. Ah, shit, _shit_…" Propelled by her eagerness, by the urgent sounds coming from her, he slowly began to move, building an erotic momentum that had them both gasping.

Tense cries were being forced directly from her throat, seemingly bypassing her lips entirely. She pressed her head back hard into the mattress, conscious decision having been wrested from her the instant they were joined. He was riding her writhing body like a pro, all muscle and movement, and she couldn't get enough. "Faster, ah, yeah, more, oh yes, more…"

He was strong, and he was relentless, and her whimpers and moans only drove him to a more violent pace. The room echoed with the frantic evidence of their passion. The sight of her wrapped around him, yet wantonly open to him, set off a chain reaction inside him, and he swung forward onto her, sinking into her completely. "God, I can't stand it, ah fuck, Temperance…" His lips found her, and he pressed a savage kiss against her neck as he began to move faster. "Come for me, Temperance, come on, babe, I want it, c'mon, oh yeah, you feel so good…"

At his sordid words, her body tightened, tightened, then twitched and writhed. White-hot lights flashed behind her eyes, and her guttural scream rent the air. "OhgodBoothohgod…"

She was tethered tightly to him, her convulsions stronger than he had expected, and he exploded forward with a shout as his body erupted viciously. He rocked back and forth against her, prolonging the moment for them as they both gasped for air, slick bodies sealed together, foreheads pressed close. "Oh, shit. Shit, Bones. Oh my God." Gradually, his pulse stopped racing, and he lifted his head, looking down at her. The sight of her was so seductive, so fucking _tempting_, he wanted to flip her over and start again. Tangled hair, flushed cheeks, rosy, swollen lips, and her eyes...he'd never, ever seen them so unfocused, so glazed with pleasure. He eased his lips onto her mouth, his tongue toying lightly with hers. All the while, he stared at her, finally realizing the full import of what had just happened. "You, uh, okay, Bones?"

"That's a completely illogical question, Booth. I'm quite obviously more than 'okay'." She smiled wickedly up at him, her hand slipping down his body to cup him. "I'd say I'm actually pretty great, right now." At his hoarse gasp, she pursed her lips, a glint of victory in her eyes. "It would seem that you're doing alright right now, as well." Smoothly flipping, she reversed their positions and began undulating against him. "Oh, Booth?"

His eyes rolled back in his head. "Huh?"

"You owe me a dress."

**Hope you liked this, not really any plot, just wanted something light after chapter two's angst-fest. Drop me a line, let me know what you thought! As always, thanks for reading!**


	4. Technology

**A very short one-shot, maybe even a drabble. I'm not really sure. Just something that popped into my head today. Enjoy! Humor, fluff, romance, BB. Rated K+.  
**

**TECHNOLOGY**

_Click._

_Click._

_Clickclickclick._

Booth lazily shifted, stirring slightly.

_Clickclick._

Sighing deeply, he flipped to his stomach, hands jamming under his pillow, foot sliding to an unused corner of the sheets. The blanket pulled away as he moved, uncovering a strong, muscular shoulder and broad back, the skin prickling with gooseflesh in reaction.

_Clickclickclickclik._

Body suddenly tensed for action, one dark eye opened, honing in on the slender, upright back of the other occupant of the room. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, everything's fine. Go back to sleep." _Clickclickclickclikclik._

He dragged himself into a half-sitting position, glaring crossly into the darkness. "I _can't _go back to sleep, it's impossible. You're making too much noise. Bones, what in the Sam Hill are you doing?"

Twisting to face him from her perch near the window, her brow furrowed confusedly. "Who's Sam Hill?"

He hissed out an impatient breath, fighting the smile that wanted to spring up. She never failed to latch onto the least important aspect of the conversation. "Never mind. What the hell are you doing?"

Her lips twisted; a slight, almost guilty expression. "I'm just…checking my email."

"What? You have **got **to be kidding me…" Flopping exasperatedly back onto the bed, he stared in frustration at the shadowed ceiling. "It's three a.m., Bones! You need to _come back to bed_ so we can get some sleep."

"But - there might be something important…" Frowning in concentration, she turned back to her Treo, her toes automatically curling off the chilly floor. He just didn't _understand_. "I was expecting a response from Professor Baird in Australia about our exchange program. It's very important."

A weary growl leapt up from the bed. "Bones, the only person who would send you something so important that you'd have to read it at three a.m. is **me**, and I'm **here**. Now _please_, come back to bed."

She considered him, all impatient and rumpled and sleepy, and could feel herself softening. "That's not true, Booth. You realize I know people in different time zones..."

"My condolences." His blatant sarcasm went unnoticed, as he'd expected.

She popped up from the chair, unable to resist the lure of correcting him. "That makes no sense –"

"_Because_ it's three a.m. Now, will you _please_ get back over here? The longer you keep me awake, the more likely I am to shoot someone tomorrow. I'm a growing boy, and I need my rest."

She stared at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted wings. Pacing, she began to lecture. "Oh - no, Booth, that's not correct. Your epiphysial plates have definitely fused at your age. You're too old to still be growing..."

In her eager attempt to correct him, she'd travelled too close to him, and quick as lightning, he leaned out and locked his fingers around her wrist. "Too old, huh?" He grinned sharply at the sudden realization dawning in her face. "That's interesting. You know what else I need?"

Although she knew it was futile, she tried to pull free of him. She had a funny feeling she knew the answer to his question. Her stomach dropped in anticipation. "Booth…"

One sharp tug had her tumbling down onto the bed next to him, and one well-muscled arm wrapped around her waist. Even as she tried to roll and free herself, he flicked his wrist, and the sheets billowed up, settled down over their heads. He shifted, pressing her into the mattress. "I need you to shut up and come here, because now I'm wide awake, and _someone_ has to pay."

She tried her best to resist squirming, but couldn't help but wiggle. The full length of his hard body on hers always caused an unavoidable but immensely satisfying chain reaction. She squealed as his talented fingers found her most ticklish spots, her giggles morphing into gasps as his hands swiftly slid to more sensitive, pleasurable areas. She returned the caresses in turn, her palms stroking, grabbing, pressing, until he tensed and shuddered, helpless in her grip. "You know, perhaps I was mistaken, after all."

He could barely think, much less form a coherent sentence, but somehow he managed to grit out the words. "About what?"

"You quite clearly **are** a growing boy." Her sweet sighs shifted into urgent, demanding moans as he began to skillfully use his tongue. She embraced him tightly and allowed everything to fade away - the room, her emails, everything. Before her mind stopped working altogether, she heard him mutter softly against her skin.

"Too old, my ass."

**I'm just like Brennan, up in the middle of the night, checking my emails. Of course, if I had me a hunky Booth to chase me back to bed, I'd get a lot more rest! Well...maybe not REST, necessarily...but I'd be a hell of a lot happier!**


	5. Padlocking

**How many of us remember our school days with both dread and longing? I know I do...Humor, romance, BB. Rated T.  
**

**PADLOCKING**

"Tell me again why I'm here?" Brennan surveyed the crowded gymnasium with a sense of horror that was both remembered and new. The students, most of whom barely came up to her shoulder, skittered and paraded and ran in every direction, save for a medium-sized clot of teenagers gyrating wildly to the music blasting through the room at a decibel level akin to that of a jumbo jet. She glanced in annoyance at her partner, who, astonishingly, seemed to be surveying the pandemonium with some amount of amusement.

"Parker's school has these dances every so often, and all the parents take turns chaperoning. It's my turn – well, actually, it's Rebecca's turn, but she had to work late, and asked me to cover for her."

"I don't understand – Parker's not even here. These children are all too old, Booth. Why is Rebecca chaperoning such an advanced grade?" She winced as a nearby pod of girls shrieked in tandem. Over some young boy, no doubt.

"Rebecca is friends with some of the moms from this grade, and she volunteered to help out during the season. She likes to come and chat with the other women – it's a social thing for her, I guess."

The music was actually beginning to make her ears hurt. She was doing her best to ignore it, but it was getting harder as the evening continued. "Oh. I understand. But that still doesn't answer my question."

He glanced over at her, trying not to notice how good she looked in her simple jeans and sweater. "What do you mean?"

"Why am **I** here?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're here to keep me from dying of boredom, Bones."

She gaped at him. "What? You told me you needed my help! Why did you say that?"

"I **do** need your help! If you weren't here I would've shot the speakers out half an hour ago!" Smiling, he grabbed her hand, squeezing it as he talked fast, trying to stem the explosion. "Don't you want to help me? I'd help you if you asked, you know I would…"

"Well…" As always, she felt herself weakening when confronted with his unique mix of logic, persuasion and charm. "I suppose that's true." She tried to pull away from his grip but he tugged back, tapping the back of her hand with one long finger.

"Besides, you're at a high school dance, Bones! Man, these things bring back some great memories…" Gazing interestedly around, he failed to notice the slight stiffening of his partner's slender body.

"I have no memories of high school dances – I never went to any." Had never been asked to any, she corrected silently. Her school dances had seemed like some sort of alien destination – there had never been any question of her attending them. She had simply known, when she was a teenager, that no one would ever be interested enough to ask her to one of those functions. Looking around again, she absorbed the faint sting and let it fade. Apparently, not attending had been a _good_ thing. This chaos would not have been anything she would have enjoyed.

He noticed the tension in her hand as she spoke and turned back to her, instantly contrite. "You didn't – I'm sorry, Bones. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories." God, he was a total shit. He knew she'd been shy, and hadn't really interacted socially when she was younger. Why hadn't he thought about how she would feel before he dragged her here? "If you really want to leave, you can take the truck. I'll either hit the Metro or get a cab."

It's alright, Booth. Don't worry about me. It was a long time ago, and based on what I'm seeing here tonight, it was _definitely _for the best that I never went to a dance."

He didn't believe her for a second. She could logic this up as much as she wanted, but it had to hurt. Stuff like that didn't fade away; it just waited for the perfect moment to pop out and cause you more pain. Bringing Bones here had been a stupid idea. He was a moron. "Hey, you wanna go for a walk?"

"Are you allowed to leave?"

"Nah, we won't leave, we'll just stroll down the hall, make the rounds. Make sure no one's padlocking." Placing his hand on her back, he guided her toward the door.

Frowning, she turned to him. "What's padlocking?"

He laughed suddenly. "Sorry - it's a code word me and my friends used in high school. It meant making out with a girl against a locker." He glanced at her sheepishly as they moved from the insane glare of the gym to the more normally lit hallway. "Damn, we really _were_ pigs when we were in school, weren't we?"

Smiling back at him, she shook her head. "Not necessarily. It's actually quite normal for pubescent boys to become fixated on the opposite sex. The surge in testosterone production, coupled with the lack of open discussion between parent and child, leads to confusion and an inability to understand and process the sexual urge." Her discourse was abruptly terminated when they turned down a darker corridor and came face to face with a young couple embracing passionately.

"Okay, Romeo, what are you doing?" Jerking his thumb in the direction from which they'd come, Booth leaned toward the young man, who was clearly distressed at being discovered. "Be a gentleman. Take her back in, alright?" Watching them rush away, he chuckled, crossing his arms as they walked further down the gloomy hall. The music, much fainter now, echoed hollowly off the walls, sounding distorted and surreal as it trickled toward them.

She glanced surreptitiously at him out of the corner of her eye as they strolled. Seeing the young man and his girlfriend had brought back even more memories, and the accompanying emotions.

"You okay, Bones?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

He looked over at her, his stare direct and probing. "You're a little quiet, all of a sudden."

She laughed crisply. "I was just remembering walking through the hallways when I was in school, and seeing classmates making out like that. I always thought it was a shame that they didn't apply themselves with the same dedication to their studies." The scorn in her voice was evident.

Watching her closely now, he stopped, turning to face her. Somewhere there, under the disdain, he'd heard something else. He could see it in her face, as well. Regret. And hidden underneath that was yet another emotion, so faint as to be almost unrecognizable. Longing. Casually, he leaned back against the bank of lockers, knowing she would follow suit. "You didn't mind, never getting to do that?"

"What? No, not at all. I was busy with my studies, and didn't have time for anything else." She leaned back next to him, tucking her arms behind her. "It was just something I saw when going from class to class."

He snorted inwardly as his blood began to heat. She was a crappy liar. Without warning, he pushed off the locker and stood in front of her, bracing one arm next to her head. "You sure about that?"

Suddenly wary, she looked intently at him. The glimmer of light spilling down the hall left his face a series of deep shadows and lines, and she wasn't able to read his expression. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

His lips curved; an easy, innocuous smile that betrayed nothing. "No reason, really. I just thought that maybe you were a little curious." She was bound to kill him for this, he mused. And he simply didn't care anymore.

"Curious?" Her lips trembled on the word, while the rest of her body stilled completely.

"Well, yeah." Leaning in, he spotted one other point of motion on her, and gazed for a moment at the pulse fluttering wildly in her neck. "Didn't you ever wonder what it felt like?"

She blinked quickly, her eyes huge. "No."

His smile deepened as his head tilted. "Bull." He leaned in that last little bit, closing the gap between them, and brushed the lightest of kisses against her lips.

Her breath caught and released, caught and released as his head drifted down and he nuzzled her neck, pressing his mouth against her galloping heartbeat. Moving slowly back up, he placed a series of tiny caressing kisses along her jaw before gliding back to her lips. His eyes lined up with hers for a brief, disconcerting moment, the heady desire in them captivating her as he once again captured her mouth with his.

Suddenly, without warning, her reserve broke. She flung her arms around his shoulders, dragging him toward her, swallowing the urgent moan that broke from his lips. Her body rattled the lockers, a Masterlock digging into her hip as he swallowed her alive, goaded on by her assault on him. His arms banded around her, and he pushed against her again, answering the open invitation of her mouth. Their lips rubbed together as they paused for air, and he nudged her with his hips, his lips taking hers again the moment she gasped in reaction.

The metal creaking behind her finally gained their attention, and they hastily broke apart, glancing around to make sure they hadn't been seen. Lungs heaving, gut tied in knots, he stared intently at her, fighting furiously for control. Somehow, he gathered himself and turned away, rubbing a hand against his chest. "I guess we should get back."

Looking at him for a long, wanting moment, she finally found the strength to answer him. "I guess we should." She turned back toward the gym, and he fell into step next to her, jamming his fisted hands into his pockets. They walked in silence for a bit, neither ready to speak about what had just happened. As they rounded the last corner, she found her eyes drawn to him again, and wondered at the small smile on his face; no more than a tiny quirk of the lips. "Why are you smiling?"

His eyes gleamed warmly as he angled his head toward her. "Oh, I don't know. I guess I was just thinking that I don't remember padlocking being quite that…good."

Grateful to the semi-darkness for hiding her flaming cheeks, she looked away, down at the ground. "Oh." They walked another small ways before she was able to continue. "Unlike you, I'm afraid I have no basis for comparison."

He laughed quietly, acknowledging the sudden, sharp flare of possessiveness. _Nobody's padlocking you but me. _"Let's just keep it that way, okay, Bones?" His hand slipped around behind her, snuggling against the flare of her hip and pulling her close against him. "Let's just keep it that way."

**I know I'd feel much better about my traumatic high school days if I had me some Booth...don't you agree?**


	6. Something New

**I haven't added anything to my little one-shot collection lately, and this tiny little one-shot haunted me all day at work. So, I figured it was time for the twain to meet, so to speak. NOT a wedding fic, for those wondering about the title, although BB are in an established relationship. Angst, hurt/comfort. BB, of course.**

**SOMETHING NEW**

With a metallic rasp of key on lock, the deadbolt slid open and he stepped quietly inside, closing the door noiselessly behind him. In the gloom he stood nearly motionless, an air of indecision heavy about him. Fist closing and opening on a tidy key ring; free hand tucked pensively in pocket. His eyes moved from item to eccentric item within the space, at first passing and then pausing over a squat lamp, normally cold and dark but tonight surrounded by a halo of warm gold. At the sight of this anomaly his temporary paralysis passed and he made his way quickly across the smooth floor, shedding his jacket and shoes and doubtful keys along the way.

Arriving at his final destination, he peered into the inky darkness, waiting for his eyes to adjust. As was usually the case the room was fastidiously neat. Everything was in its place – shoes neatly lined up under the dresser and the next day's clothes pressed and waiting for the wearer. Beyond that stretched the bed, spacious and swathed in luxurious bedding. Bedding that had been unceremoniously thrust aside, save for one sheet. Beneath the thin fabric lay a form, slender and soft and coiled in a ball much too tight for sleep.

Instantly galvanized into action, he shed his clothes and approached, sliding under the sheet. Before he could react or even settle the form straightened and rolled, colliding with him in a manner both harsh and desperate, thin arms locking tightly around him in a near-painful grip. A grip so strong it was only surpassed by his own embrace. They lay awkwardly facing each other, neither one willing to let go long enough to move to a more comfortable position.

"I'm sorry."

Driven to nurture by both habit and character he automatically soothed her, pressing his lips against the side of her face. "I'm sorry, too." Unsatisfied with even this extreme degree of closeness, he hitched her up, pulling her rigid body more snugly against his own. Her skin against his had been a shock, superheated by what could only be her rampaging emotions. He tugged her closer yet again. "Shh, it's okay."

"It's not."

"It'll be okay. C'mon, now…" Silence settled between them for several very long moments while he gave her the time he knew he should have given her earlier. After her stiffness and his hurt; before her silence and his leaving. Some while later he sensed a change in her and shifted, rolling onto his back and bringing her with him. She clung to him, settling on him like a blanket, crowding him as if there was room for only one person. More time passed and finally her breathing began to slow. "Talk to me, Bones. Please. Tell me what's going on."

"I missed you."

Guilt flared and roiled in his stomach. "I'm so sorry. I wasn't gone that long. Only an hour or so."

"No. I missed you. While you were away."

"I missed you too – that's why I came right over, as soon as I got home."

"I know. I know that."

"Then why were you so distant when I got here? It happened the last time I went away, too. I don't understand..."

"I missed you."

His hands tightened convulsively on her as realization suddenly sank in. "And it scared you."

"I – yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I was so rude, so indifferent."

"Hey, you're not indifferent, not in the least. I don't want you to say that. Just...talk to me, okay? Don't fight against it so hard. If something's bothering you just tell me about it. We'll figure it out together. I promise." He felt her shrink away the tiniest bit and ran his hand down the graceful flow of her spine. "Come on. It's just you and me, here. Just the two of us."

"I was upset at first. Then I wanted to tell you, but...you were gone, and I thought it was too late..."

"God, Bones, no." He felt her arm move, recognized the motion. Leaning back, he gently lifted his hand and swiped his thumb under her eye. "I was frustrated; I just needed a little time to calm down. I'm so sorry you thought I wasn't coming back..."

"It was my fault. I'm know I'm callous, I can be cold...I didn't mean to make you feel unwelcome."

"Stop. Okay? Just stop. You were scared, and you reacted without thinking. I was tired, and I got angry and didn't bother to find out what was wrong. You know what? I'm not perfect. Neither are you. We're human." The minute tremors running through her body traveled through him as well, but with a cut like a knife. "C'mere." Unresistingly she went to him again and he grasped her hand, placing it on his chest, holding it there. "I swear to you, I will _never_ leave you like that. Never. I will never do to you what they did to you." She burrowed into him and he grabbed at her gratefully, his strong arms banding around her. When the tremors began to fade and then morph into shivering, he prepared to sit up but was stopped by her hands. "It's all right. We need a blanket; you're cold." He drew the comforter high, cocooning them together. But when he reached for her she resisted him, her soft, small hand molding his face.

"Booth..."

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I missed you."

He leaned into her, his forehead almost touching hers. "I missed you too."

"Welcome home."

**As always, thank you so much for taking the time to read. I hope you enjoyed.**


	7. Dual Reaction

**Goodness. So much effort, and only a few hundred words to show for it. Clearly my muse is still missing in action. Was unsure if I should post such a small, odd piece, but maybe if I do I can get back into the swing of things and finish my WIP. Well, that, and I couldn't sleep. So what the hell, I'm going for it. Thanks so much for reading.  
**

**DUAL REACTION**

They fought for hours, long after work ended; the topic important enough that neither would give way. His hot temper and her arrogance finally pushed them both too far, and she stalked to the couch with a blanket and her fury to keep her warm. Alone in their bed, he lay on his back and stared angrily up at the ceiling.

An hour later, he turned his head at a sound from the doorway. She stood rigid, a mutinous expression firming her lovely features. Reluctance lined every inch of her frame.

With an impatient sigh, he confronted her. "What?"

"I'm still mad at you." Her tone was accusatory and sullen, yet she padded closer. Unwillingly. Her inner struggle was plain to see, as plain as if she was made of glass.

His jaw tightened. "Yeah...?"

"I still think you're wrong."

A few more steps and she was nearly by his side. And now he could see her better, watch her as she crossed her arms and glowered down at him. "I get that."

She started to speak. Stopped. Started and stopped again as anger and acceptance twisted her features. Finally she spoke, spitting the words at him challengingly. "I don't want to sleep out there."

His heavy-lidded eyes darkened. Quickly he lifted one strong arm, pulling the sheet back and waiting for her.

She didn't keep him waiting long. With barely a second's hesitation she stepped forward and knelt on the bed. When she moved to slide past him, the press of his hand on her back brought her down onto him instead. Limbs tangled and bodies heated.

"Where you going...c'mere." He pressed her closer, large hands sliding behind her and under her nightshirt to cup her softness.

"I'm going to bed." Her soft words mingled with his, but despite them, she made no move to leave. Slender, seeking fingers crept to his shoulders and curled tight.

"That's not why you're here. It's not the bed. It's this, baby..." Lazily he ground against her, lapping at her neck until she finally trembled. "...it's us."

Sliding slowly against him, she rested her forehead on his and dug her nails into his skin. "You're wrong. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. We can be mad at each other, but..." His hands caressed her curves possessively. "...we still want this."

With a sigh, she sank lower onto him, her mouth seeking his. "Yes," she whispered. "I want this."

_fini_

**I know the ending seems a bit abrupt, but that was where it told me it wanted to end. Just a little snippet, a little tiny snapshot of BB at a pivotal moment. Thanks again for taking the time to read. **


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